


dancing robots

by orphan_account



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Attempt at Humor, Coming To Terms With Your Feelings: The Fic, Cute Zen | Ryu Hyun, First Kisses, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, THE FIC, Texting, lots of internal thoughts, supportive zen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:39:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25422532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Seven leaves barely an hour later with headphones dragged up to his ears and a heavy burden down his shoulders. Was he that obvious? What prompted this? The last thing he wants is to ruin what they have. Every step forward to his own place is another kilogram of burden down his shoulders. Every step forward is a step forward to this ruin. He does not forget the way he’d scrambled out of the younger’s hold, excusing himself to the bathroom instantly. He does not forget the way he’d felt the younger’s stare burn down his back as he’d locked himself in to regain his breath.He does not forget the strange blooming of his chest.He runs.or, alternatively: mutual pining clueless yooseven: the fic
Relationships: 707 | Choi Luciel/Kim Yoosung
Comments: 8
Kudos: 72





	dancing robots

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this at 2 am for mysmes discord server and tried to work on it for two days before eventually giving up and just leaving it be, but i hope u guys enjoy

Yoosung looks at the banner of player God Seven on its comfortable place at the top of the League in his server with a forlorn expression. Seven himself is sitting next to him, knees up to his chest, munching on his chips. He’s grinning like a fool at the younger boy.

“Ah,” Yoosung says, “I’ll beat you in the next event, Seven. Don’t you dare underestimate me!”

Seven just grins more. Popping more chips in his mouth, he gives a muffled, “Good luck, Sungie,” which only seems to rile the blond boy up more. He groans loudly and ruffles his own hair, before turning to shoot a frustrated look at the red-haired boy. “You couldn’t have chosen some other server, eh? Is it fun to annoy me?”

Seven brings up a honey-chip dirtied finger to bump his nose, and Yoosung almost throws him out there and then. “You’re cute when you’re frustrated, Yoosung. I just wanna see you like that more~”

Yoosung goes red. Just a little bit, if you ask him. Like a plump tomato, if you ask Seven. “Y-you’re so dumb...” he mumbles, eyes darting away from him and back on the screen. One of his friends has sent him a message asking if they can clear their quests together, and Yoosung’s just typing up his answer when a hand shoots out to grab his wrist.

“What now?!” Yoosung turns again to look at his friend with downcast eyes, and the only response he gets is “No.”

“What do you mean No?!”

Seven lets out a noise that sounds more like a whine than anything else. “I already told you I was going to clear quests with you. Are you cheating on me, Sungie?~”

“Ch-cheating….” Yoosung is baffled. “Seven, is this a trick question?”

“Maybe~”

“I hate you,” Yoosung says, but he’s laughing, so any threat it holds is dissipated in seconds. Seven does nothing but look at him with a grin, and he wonders how much Zen would taunt him if the older man was here. He shakes this thought out of his head as Yoosung goes back into the arena in his game and pushes at Seven to do the same so they can play together.

* * *

It is past midnight when Zen hears his phone vibrate under his pillow. His muffled groans hold no value against the plush, and he sneaks an arm under to grab it and turns it on with tired eyes, accepting the incoming call quickly.

“You better have a good reason for interrupting my beauty sleep,” Seven hears the usual silky voice grumble through the other end. “It’s almost 1 AM, what do you want?”

“I need advice,” Seven says, which is in fact something that humbles his ego down to a point where he can’t say this in a voice louder than what is considered normal and necessary for someone like him. “And who better for dating advice than our one and very own Zennie, right?~”

Seven’s façade of his sickly sweet voice is either magical by default or it’s just because Zen is interested in this matter more than anyone else he knows, but he hears the actor on the other end shuffle and sit up instantly at this. He hears him clear his throat, and a innocent, “Dating advice?” which makes him want to hang up instantly.

“Yes,” Seven says. His glasses are slipping off of his face and he wonders if he’ll have to sugar-coat Zen more than he’s already planning to. “Just some tips and tricks, unless they come at a price?”

Seven knows they don’t. Zen is instantly laughing on the other end, saying some princely shit like ‘Ah, but thou art mine comrade’ that he doesn’t exactly pay any attention to, and it goes on for three minutes before Zen asks him who’s the lucky lady. And Seven says there is none. And Zen, amidst his three-second confusion, Realizes.

“Yoosung?!” He’s excited as per usual. “Ah, so Seven likes the gamer-boy type. I could’ve guessed.”

“Any advice for the gamer-boy types, oh great Zen?”

Zen hums. “Not really.”

“That’s great, goodnight.” Seven is just about to hang up when he hears an alarmed yell on the other end. “What?!”

“I have ONE piece of advice!” Zen says, excitedly, and Seven nods as if the other can see. His notes app is open, fingers poised over his keyboard in a ready stance.

The call cuts.

Seven blinks. He does not move.

* * *

It is 8 AM in the morning when Seven receives Zen’s text. “Well?”

707: well what, hyung TT_TT

ZEN: Isn’t my advice good?~

707: what advice…….u cut ur call before u could even  
  


707:….say anything………

ZEN: …

ZEN: Ah.

ZEN: Should I just –

707: Gooble exists for a reason.

707: Perhaps it is time for the Great 707…

707: to succumb to its lies…..!!

ZEN: …

ZEN: Do whatever you want.

ZEN: Don’t come crying to me when –

707: cu later

* * *

Contrary to his text, Seven does not succumb to Gooble.

Instead, he texts Yoosung to come over for another LOLOL event. The blond boy mentions that he’ll drop by later with some fried chicken after his classes. Seven opens his laptop to log into his account, watching his character standing uselessly for a minute before he logs out again. Putting a handful of chips in his mouth and cracking open a can of Dr. Pepper by his side, he sighs. Finding Unknown is still a priority. He should get to work.

Yoosung drops by sometime in the late afternoon, the promised bag of fried chicken and beer in his hand as he makes himself at home. Slinging his bag on Seven’s unused bed, he sets up the chicken and his laptop and logs in his own LOLOL account. Seven does not realize this until he feels a pair of hands drag his headphones down, and disappointed violet eyes staring into his golden. “You didn’t sleep again, did you?”

“Sleep is a social construction,” Seven says, and before he can spout more bullshit from some one-week sociology session he sees the fried chicken. He shuts up as if the chicken is some sort of divine miracle descending down to them as a gift in turn for his hard days of work, and looks up at Yoosung with an expression that throws the student off easily.

“Seven, what’s wrong?”

Seven feigns a tearful look. “You brought my favorite brand. Sungie, are you by chance a guardian angel sent for me?”

“If I was your guardian angel I’d send you straight to hell,” Yoosung says, even though both of them know he doesn’t mean it. He sits down on his chair and mumbles, “You haven’t been eating anything but Honey-Buddha chips lately, it’s bad for your health.”

Seven clutches his heart at this and says, “I didn’t know you cared so much, cutie.” He wipes at his eyes as if he were wiping away his tears, and Yoosung smacks him on the shoulder until they’re both laughing.

The fried chicken and beer is consumed slowly throughout the day. Seven’s phone beeps a few times as he works after their LOLOL session, and he only grabs it after Yoosung’s passed out on his bed and the Sun is going down.

ZEN: Well? How’s your date going?

707: D…

707: Date…………………..

707: Ah, if only………….

ZEN: Disaster?

707: No……

707: It’s perfect………….

ZEN:…?????

ZEN: What…………

ZEN: What are you trying to say?!

* * *

Yoosung wakes up when the sun’s gone down and Seven is buried into his chair and headphones again with the big screen in front of him. He grabs his things and is about to call out to his friend that he’s leaving before he realizes he hears nothing. No tap of the keyboard, no crunching of chips, no cracking of cans. He walks towards the screen and comes to see Seven’s eyes closed, huddling in his jacket and knees up to his chest like the day before. He’s snoring a little, too, and Yoosung instantly takes his phone out to take a picture.

He sends this to the RFA groupchat without another word, and then goes to grab a blanket to pull over him in his sleep. Yoosung leaves quietly with the promise of coming back lying next to Seven’s laptop.

Jumin: He looks like a cat, doesn’t he?

Jumin: Disgusting.

* * *

The first thing Seven realizes when he wakes up is that there’s a blanket on top of him that smells oddly like Yoosung’s deodorant from the day before. The second thing he realizes is Yoosung’s own laptop next to his own, LOLOL account logged in and his avatar standing next to a banner that says nothing but “GM, sleepyhead”. Seven scoffs and smiles.

707: You left your laptop here

707: Should I bring it over later?

707:…

707: Ah?! Perhaps this is a trick?!

707: My lovely Sungie wants to see more of Seven-hyung?!

707: So early in the morning! So racy!!

Yoosung:…

Yoosung: I don’t think that’s the right phrase;;

Yoosung: Drop it off whenever u can

Yoosung: u still have my extra keys, dontu?

707: Seven Oh Seven reporting for duty~~

707: ill drop by later

707: Focus on class~!!

* * *

Seven drops by in the evening, laptop secure in his arms as he opens the door to Yoosung’s place with his extra key and shuffles inside. Setting the device down carefully, he stretches his arms and heads over to Yoosung’s room. Lying down on the bed as if it were his own, he pulls out his phone.

He’s playing PUGB when he hears the unmistakable sound of the door opening and Yoosung letting his bag slip to the ground as he comes inside his room with a loud groan of either relief or fear as his eyes spot a Seven now lying on his bed in a compromising position, sideways with a hand on his hip and the other supporting his head as he winks. “Welcome home, pumpkin.” His phone is dropped carelessly on the floor.

“Don’t bring a curse upon my house,” Yoosung says, looking down at him with contempt. “Who’re you calling pumpkin?” He bends down to shove him to the side so he can sit down, too, pulling out his own phone.

“Sungie, pick up my phone for me.”

“What will I get in return?”

“Tons of affection,” Seven is whining, threatening to wrap his arms around the younger and pulling him close in a manner of making him uncomfortable and relenting. But Yoosung does not relent. He’s well on his way to being cuddled in Seven’s arms with the phone in his hand before the older realizes this is not going to work. In an attempt to look miserable, Seven groans.

And groans.

And groans until Yoosung smacks his arm for the second time in twenty-four arms before he picks up the phone.

“Thank you, Yoosungie~”

“I’ll make you eat your words.”

“I’d like to see you try!”

Yoosung tackles him, and Seven bursts in a bout of uncontrollable laughter as he’s pinned to the bed, the blond’s nimble fingers finding his ticklish spots easily. Yoosung makes him suffer until Seven, heaving and red as his hair, succumbs and raises the white flag. But there is something that does not change.

Yoosung forgets to move. One of his hands is still pinning both of Seven’s down above his head, the other poised at his waist. The hacker’s eye-bags have seemingly gotten darker, his skin paler. He does not know why he notices these details. Only that he does not like them. And then there’s a blooming strangeness in his chest that he finds no reason to feel.

Seven’s mind is a jumble. Number One, he’s pretty sure he’s blushing. But ahah, Number Two, Yoosung can be easily deceived. Number Three, and even though he does not know it himself, his chest is also blooming with the same strangeness as the boy on top of him. Except, he knows this feeling. He’s familiar with this feeling. It’s something that keeps him awake on late nights, even those where he attempts to sleep.

He wants to move. Closer, out of reach, away. He does not know which. He simply wants to move.

It is then that the strangeness takes a physical toll.

A soft press against his lips, a closing of eyes, a soft breath and the taste of curry. A blond strand, a loosening of a hair clip, a softening of the grip on his wrists. A hum.

Seven feels hot. His cheeks are crimson, his eyes are open, and his lips are not soft, and he definitely does not taste like curry. His hair is red, his glasses have long fallen to the side of his head, and his wrists feel swollen despite not having been held tight or for long. He does not hum.

Yoosung pulls away. Seven’s brain shuts down.

“You.” He says.

“Me,” the blond mumbles, suddenly shy.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Dunno.”

Seven doesn’t say anything more.

* * *

What does this change?

* * *

Seven leaves barely an hour later with headphones dragged up to his ears and a heavy burden down his shoulders. Was he that obvious? What prompted this? The last thing he wants is to ruin what they have. Every step forward to his own place is another kilogram of burden down his shoulders. Every step forward is a step forward to this ruin. He does not forget the way he’d scrambled out of the younger’s hold, excusing himself to the bathroom instantly. He does not forget the way he’d felt the younger’s stare burn down his back as he’d locked himself in to regain his breath.

He does not forget the strange blooming of his chest.

He runs.

* * *

Yoosung’s in a compulsory battle in LOLOL with an online friend when his heart threatens to stop amidst the burning sensations that flood his veins every second over and over again. His face is red, too. His eyebrows are twitching. The hairclips are long forgotten on the edge of his bed, hair freely falling onto his eyes. His headphones fail to blur the white noise in his brain. His hands are shaking, but he wills them to stop. The battle isn’t easy, and any slip can cost him a shit ton of HP and EXP.

“Charge from the left,” Yoosung yells into his mic, voice more on edge than usual. He’s going right, but he falters. He’s not holding the weapon physically, but he feels its weight anyways. The strange feeling is coming along with a weight. He does not like it. Not one bit.

He will not forget the strange blooming of his chest anytime soon.

He charges.

* * *

Seven does not call him the next day.

Yoosung stares at his phone every two hours with a sort of contempt on his face you would not think could exist on someone like him. Zen, who’s over to visit (and for….well…..) looks up from his script every few minutes at him.

“I thought Sungie was gonna help me practice,” he jokes, and does not miss the way he twitches at the nickname. Zen sighs, placing his script down. “You want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Yoosung blinks, turning a surprised look at the actor. “How’d you know?”

Zen smiles. “Let’s just say I’m emotionally sensitive.”

Yoosung nods. But looks down.

“I think I ruined mine and Seven’s relationship.”

Zen hums. “How so?”

“I…assumed he liked me back…” Yoosung falters, the memories making him want to wither into a hole in the floor. “And…kissed him….without asking first.”

Zen’s eyes go comically wide. “You…”

Yoosung can’t bear to look up at him. He bows his head in shame, bringing up his palms to his eyes, now threatening to water.

“I...I ruined things, didn’t I?”

Surprisingly, Zen laughs.

“I never knew Yoosung could be so direct! It’s a good look on you!”

Yoosung does not say anything. The strange weight in his chest is back, and he wallows in it until a soft hand falls on his head. A warmth encases his body, and he looks up just a little to see Zen crouching down in front of him, eyes crinkled and smile wide, hand petting his head soothingly.

“You’re okay, Yoosung,” he says, his voice unusually soft in the way that he’s usually reserved for his acting career. “I think Seven likes you back.”

This is all that it takes. The tears flow.

* * *

Seven doesn’t receive Yoosung’s calls, again.

He wonders whether he’s sick of him yet. Or that he’s just simply given up. It would make sense.

His fingers type away at the keyboard without a second thought. Five minutes pass. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. His mind is relentless. His train of thoughts is neverending. He knows he can’t spare his time. Affections are supposed to be an unimportant hobby in his line of work. Hell, he doesn’t even know if he’s qualified for love.

Would he understand? His constant dismissal of his own feelings, the limited time, the problems that will inevitably arise? Yoosung is not the type of person to live on limited time. He’s not the type to live on the inevitable constant problems.

Fifty minutes pass.

His door opens.

Of course, he hears this, the image of his dirty room flashing momentarily in his mind with a Vanderwood with disgust painted on his features.

He turns around in a mock carelessness. “Ah, Vanderwo-“

There’s a blond boy standing instead of his maid. Seven stares.

“Yoo-“

“We should talk.”

Seven shuts up.

Yoosung stretches a hand out to him, and the red-haired boy gingerly grabs it before he’s pulled up and on eye level with the student. Yoosung, uncharacteristically forward, looks him straight in the eyes.

“I like you.”

It’s short, but oh so sweet.

Seven stares. He does not what else to do.

“I thought it was pretty clear with the kiss,” Yoosung continues. “And if it isn’t, I’d like to kiss you again.”

Seven’s eyes are blown wide.

“Go ahead,” he says, breathily, a small baffled grin ghosting his features.

Yoosung does. He goes ahead.

* * *

If you were to ask Seven about his ideal universe, he would say this: Space you can breathe in. A spaceship. Dancing robots programmed to a single step. Rooms bursting with nothing but a dull teal and yellow. Protruding skyscrapers on the opposite ends of the ship, and a transparent window in their middle from which you could see the opposite end from your own. Dancing robots on each end, programmed to follow the other’s steps perfectly. A world of ghost towns in space and two robots programmed to each other dancing together. There is no symbolism in this. Just dancing robots.

If you were to ask Yoosung about his ideal universe, he would say either: living in LOLOL, or a universe blooming with flowers and colours. Even he does not know which universe he wants. Frankly, he has not thought much on this. He will simply laugh and scratch his neck nervously. There is no symbolism in this. Just flowers and colours.

In this moment, Seven thinks that this universe might be ideal.

In this moment, Yoosung thinks that this universe might be ideal.


End file.
